The Boy with a Thorn on his Side

"I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does" The Smiths, "How Soon is Now?"

In college, straight from the boisterous loose-ends of a PolSci class, Literature hour beckoned. Two buzzwords I learned: “stream of consciousness” and “tragic flaw.”

Traipsing between the two fields enabled me to experience a slight paradigm shift in character-treatment. In PolSci, no political actor is sui generis. There is a remarkable absence of personal autonomy and the focal point is how events and outcomes are swayed by a much-looming political synergy. In other words, the individual is rendered insignificant.

In fact, in the big picture, there is no individual as a unit, as an entity, as a reality. Super-villains are not persons but institutions, a prevailing belief and value system, a powerful economic minority. The theoretical language of the Left harps on collective action and class struggle – always persons in the plural.

In Lit, the individual is an imposing figure, not a product of myth. The individual is so much alive, charting his own path, building his own legend, conquering history. It was such a breath of fresh air.

Peeking into “stream of consciousness,” my limited grasp of dialectics proved to be a reliable guidepost. KM provides one of the plausible explanations of consciousness-formation: “It’s not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, rather, it’s their social existence that determines their consciousness.” It was quite a smooth ride.

However, when the professor started discussing “tragic flaw,” I plummeted into the pits of ignorance. Before that, I considered flaws endearing, even cute, but never tragic. The people I think the world of are highly flawed human beings and without anyone sermoning me on this valuable point, I have always embraced flaws more than semblances of perfection.

I go to a house with no clutter, nothing is out of place, not a speck of dust is evident, so Lysol-clean and I get dizzy. I enter a house stinking of cat-shit and dog-urine and I find it cozy and welcoming. (It’s our house I’m describing, actually).

So upon encountering the concept of “tragic flaw” for the first time, I was dumbfounded. For one, my familiarization with Greek tragedy was/is limited, my knowledge of Shakespeare was/is anemic. You hazard a guess – too much greed? Loving too much? Loving too little? Being born poor? Being impotent? The prof would vigorously nod his head in feigned annoyance. Who was exasperating who?

The elusive answers? The prof volunteered that the tragic flaw of Oedipus Rex was his obsession of the truth, his wanting to know everything. Hamlet’s was his failure to forget, his belief that everything fits and means something.

Ho-hum. What about falling in love with their mothers? I just don’t get the whole concept. What was Samson’s tragic flaw if not Delilah? What was John the Baptist if not Salome? What was Judas’? Christ’s?

At 17, “tragic flaw” was a canonical idea I wished to repudiate because my answers would always fall short and the mighty prof always had the last word. Why were we not simply told that “tragic flaw” is attendant to our mortality, our powerlessness, that it’s because we are not God?

Obviously, “tragic flaw” is a normative, not a descriptive concept. Wanting to know everything is a tragic flaw? Unable to forget is a tragic flaw? Sounds like a recipe concocted by the Washington consensus.

Normative rules are determined by power relations, here we go again (ho-hum) but convince me otherwise. Those with power dictate what is right and legal, are you blind? Those with power besiege the weak with fanciful ideas that “knowing and not forgetting” is a tragic flaw, God forbid. That’s exactly the fear of oppressive and evil imperialists – the political awakening of the powerless.

Ignorance and amnesia, that’s what exploiters and oppressors would want to inflict on the oppressed using all legal means, the educational system, in this instance. Make no mistake about this: education is empowering and subversive in itself, for as long as it encourages critical thinking and dialogue.

Going back to “tragic flaw,” I reflect on my own. Wishing happiness on everyone, that’s one among a thousand. First, it’s just not possible. Second, it’s just not fair. People who cause so much distress and misery shouldn’t have any right to be happy for a duration, if I were to decree.

No, we’re not talking about imperialists this time. I mean, the adorable boy who promised you the moon, the lovable boy who promised to buy the stars for you, Petra.